


All His

by jynx



Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Injury Recovery, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 15:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20391655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynx/pseuds/jynx
Summary: Dick really should have known not to go on patrol with a fever. But thankfully Slade's there to catch him when he falls.





	All His

**Author's Note:**

> Soo....I haven't written DC fic in 8? 9? years. (What up old LJ fic I've been finding on AO3 <3) It's been a while. I'm gonna blame Titans right now for delving back into this dumpster and loving it. And dragging everyone I know with me. Or trying to. Anyway, this isn't beta'd, so all errors are my own.

It was the pain, or maybe it was the lack of pain, that finally pulled him from his sleep. He was warm and lying on something soft--a very different situation than the one he remembered being in before--but it took an extreme amount of energy to even try to open his eyes. He should evaluate his surroundings, find out where he was, if there was anyone with him, if his identity had been compromised-- 

“Relax, little bird,” a voice murmured as a hand brushed over his shoulder. He knew that voice, even if he couldn’t quite place it at the moment. “You’re tensing. Go back to sleep, I’ll watch over you.” 

Dick gave up the attempt to rouse himself and let himself fall back into the blackness, knowing someone was there to catch him. 

The next time he woke he was curled up on his side, the way he normally slept, but his head was on something his brain classified as “not-a-pillow”. Thanks, brain, very helpful. He stretched out in the bed, trying not to flinch as his body screamed at him, as he felt fingers slide into his hair to pet him and oh, thigh. That’s where his head was. He was using someone as a pillow. Well, hardly the first time that had happened and probably not the last time. 

“You awake?” a voice rumbled.” 

Dick blinked sleepily up at his bed partner and smiled. “Hey, thought you were,” he paused. He couldn’t remember where Slade had been. Not Gotham, that’s for sure. “Out,” he finished. 

Slade’s lips quirked, his hair falling into his face in a way that made Dick’s fingers itch to run through the silver strands. He’d forgone the eyepatch in bed and looked softer, more approachable, and Dick loved it. “And I thought you knew better than to go out with a fever of a hundred and two.” 

Dick curled around Slade’s legs, making himself comfortable, pulling the blankets tighter around him. “It wasn’t that high when I went out. Maybe a hundred. Maybe ninety-nine point something. I’ve gone out before with worse.” 

“You should be glad I was there last night,” Slade said, voice still quiet as he set aside his tablet. “You were falling.” 

Dick frowned. He didn’t remember that. He remembered being by the docks and busting a drug deal or three, remembered feeling too hot and woozy and comming in that he had to head back. It was possible someone had gotten the drop on him, certainly felt like he’d taken a couple of bad hits, and then nothing. “Nope, sorry, it’s a blank.” 

“You were down by the docks,” Slade said, his hand sliding back to cradle Dick’s head, his warm fingers rubbing gently at the base of his skull. It felt wonderful. “Looked like either you slipped or your line gave. Saved you from going splat and brought you back here to look after you.” 

Dick hummed quietly. The family was probably going sparse looking for him if that was the case. 

“Why were you out to begin with? Doesn’t Daddy Bats have enough orphans patrolling the city that you could have rested?” 

“He needed me,” Dick admitted around a yawn as he relaxed into Slade’s hold. 

“_Robins_,” Slade sighed, the word sounding like a curse. 

Dick inched his lower body a little closer to Slade’s, ignoring the warning shot of pain along his spine and ribs when he did, to hook his leg around Slade’s. His boyfriend was wearing a pair of those soft lounge pants that Dick could shimmy up his leg easily. He liked full-body contact, a lot, and he was in the worst position for it right now. But that was hardly going to stop him. The clenching, tight feeling in his chest on the other hand, might. He pulled away from Slade and rolled over to cough--and cough, and cough, and cough until it felt like he was about to hack up both lungs and all the attached organs. His ribs _throbbed_ angrily at him each time he tried to breathe and he groaned, wrapping an arm around himself. 

Dick heard Slade sigh and the bed dipped as the other man stood. “Kid,” he said, “you really need to start taking care of yourself.” 

“I was in Gotham anyway and he asked,” Dick mumbled, pressing his face against the cool linens. Why did he still feel so hot? Slade had dressed him in a loose t-shirt and left him in his boxer-briefs. He shouldn’t be so hot when he wasn’t wearing that much. “He doesn’t ask often.” 

“He asks enough,” Slade said. Dick heard rustling and the sound of a pill bottle rattling. He opened his eyes to watch Slade as crouched down by the side of the bed. “Wintergreen said you either had a nasty cold or bronchitis. Considering the cough, I’m going with bronchitis. Meds, water, sleep.” 

Dick sighed. He should really go see Doc Thompson but, as he squinted at the bottle Slade handed over, he figured she’d say the same thing. “Today, meds and bed. Tomorrow, doctor and we’ll see.” 

Slade’s lips quirked up. “You don’t trust me, kid? I’m hurt.” 

“I trust you,” Dick said instantly as he forced himself to sit up. “I just don’t trust your non-existent medical degree. You don’t get sick. You’re not squishy. I need a squishy doctor much as I’d love to play doctor with you.” 

Slade snorted as he handed over the water bottle. “One of those, if you please. Steroids are something you don’t fuck around with. Even non-squishy people know this.” 

Dick rolled his eyes and took a sip of his water and swallowed the prednisone. He drank deeply from the water bottle, finding he was extremely thirsty, before setting the empty bottle down and beckoning Slade back to bed. “Come cuddle,” he said with a smile. At Slade’s raised brow his smile widened. “Yes, I know--you big, scary man and you don’t cuddle. But I’m sick and hurt and you’re warm and comfy.” 

Slade shook his head as he stood up, but Dick saw his boyfriend smiling. A buzzing noise caught his attention and he pulled back the covers to slide out of bed, when Slade huffed. “Get back under those covers, I’ll grab your phone.” 

“Thank you,” Dick said as he pulled the covers back over himself and curled up around one of the comfy pillows. This was one of Slade’s safehouses, one Dick had been in before, which meant the bed was big enough for two and was more comfortable than the other safehouses. It had a TV and a stocked kitchen, and a very well stocked first aid kit. Dick figured Slade had gotten tired of the various hotel rooms and rooftops they’d been meeting up at and decided to convert one of his safehouses into more of a… Love nest sounded really wrong, but it was the best thing Dick’s mind could come up with. And he certainly wasn’t complaining. It was nice to meet at a place that they didn’t have to worry about being quiet or watch the destruction if they decided to get a little playful. 

Slade returned and handed Dick his now silent phone as he got back into bed. He picked up his tablet and, adjusting the pillows behind his back, went back to whatever it was he was doing. 

“One of these days I’m going to steal that thing and get past your security and install a bunch of really dumb games on it,” Dick said as he unlocked his phone. “Candy Crush, Triple Town, Pokemon, Galaxy of Heroes, 2048, Sudoku, Cube.” 

“I’d break your fingers,” Slade said calmly. 

Dick scrolled through his missed call list--wincing as the number climbed into the double digits--and checked his texts. “Hey, how long was I out for?” he asked. He probably should have asked that first but he’d been distracted by Slade being there and then coughing. 

Slade was quiet for a moment before: “You were asleep for about sixteen hours.” 

“Sooo…that’s why they’re losing their minds,” Dick said as he hit Bruce’s number and put the phone to his ear. He felt Slade’s hand slide over his head and leaned into the absent touch. The line connected and he tried not to cough as he rolled onto his back and settled his head on Slade’s thigh again. “Hey, B.” 

“Dick? Where have you been?” Bruce demanded, voice sharp. 

“Got dizzy and fell, apparently,” Dick said. “Someone saved me and is making me rest.” 

“Is this the same _someone_ you’re dating and refuse to tell me about?” Bruce asked, a bite to his words. 

“Yeah,” Dick said as he closed his eyes. He was getting good at ignoring the demands for the truth from Bruce. He’d only been dodging them for five months now. “I’m gonna see Leslie tomorrow, though. It’s probably bronchitis and then whatever injuries I got from patrolling last night.” 

A beat of silence, then: “You could have told me you were sick.” 

Dick smiled as Slade’s hand slid under his head to rub at the aching base of his skull. That felt nice. “Think A told you,” he mumbled. “Had a fever. Still have one.” 

“Will you be coming back to the Manor tomorrow?” Bruce asked. 

Dick opened his eyes and blinked sleepily up at Slade. “Dunno,” he said. “Maybe.” 

“Text your brothers,” Bruce said finally with a sigh. “They’ve been worried.” 

Dick grinned as he closed his eyes. “Yeah, I noticed. It’s kind of cute, and you can tell them I said so.” Bruce hummed softly and disconnected._ Yeah, yeah, love you too, Dad._

“I’m between jobs,” Slade said after a moment as Dick started to text his siblings back. “I don’t mind looking after you while you recover.” 

Dick glanced at him as he sent an obnoxious gif to Jason. “Yeah?” 

“I like knowing you’re taken care of,” Slade said, his eyes fixed to his tablet. Dick let his phone slide from his hand to the mattress next to him as he leveraged himself up and into Slade’s lap. Slade wasn’t always good with words, much better with actions, when it came to expressing himself. Dick knew that going into this and, as Slade set the tablet aside and tugged Dick closer, that was all right by him. He rested his head against Slade’s shoulder, pressed against his neck, as he loosely wrapped his arms around the older man. Slade held him carefully, mindful of his ribs, but no less fiercely. 

“Ask?” Dick asked. Just because he knew didn’t mean he sometimes didn’t like hearing it. 

Slade huffed out a soft chuckle and pressed a kiss to Dick’s cheek. “Stay?” he asked. 

Dick smiled against Slade’s skin. “Of course.” His family wouldn’t understand, but then, they never did. He was learning, slowly, that it was okay to have some things all to himself. 


End file.
